In defence of motivational books

By Ng’ang’a Mbugua

Too often, those who are better off economically, socially and academically under-estimate the value and power of self-confidence, either because they have it and take it as a matter of course or they do not believe that others can be taught to cultivate it.

This is largely why opinion shapers who are perceived as accomplished men and women downplay the importance of motivational books. But they are, to use a popular expression, already in the choir and as far as they are concerned, there is no point in preaching to the already converted.

Yet, when many people are starting out on their life journeys, they are often filled with self-doubt and plagued by a lack of confidence despite their burning desire to become achievers. Think of the young man who falls in love but lacks the courage to walk up to the girl of his dreams and express his feelings in words. Think of the days and weeks that this love torments his heart, then one day he hears the song about the country boy who was in love with a Mexican girl, only she did not know it. Emboldened by the lyrics, the boy summons all the courage he can muster, ignores his pounding heart and dry mouth and walks upto the girl, introduces himself and then tells her that he loves her. Motivational books work much the same way.

Take David Waweru’s book, Champion, first printed last year and reprinted this year. The publisher-turned writer, who is the CEO of WordAlive Publishers, narrates how, as a young man from a poor neighbourhood in Nairobi, he yearned to become a champion boxer and how his life circumstances made his dream appear unreachable.  He hailed from a poor family, he was brought up by a single mother who had escaped from an abusive marriage, he knew no one who was a boxer and he had no money with which to buy the equipment he needed for his training. In short, there was no one he could look up to for guidance. Yet, by dint of his determination, he formed a boxing club, approached the city council to give them a training venue and, with a group of other young enthusiasts, approached a trainer recommended to them by the council.

To raise the money they needed to buy equipment and pay the trainer, the group started engaging in odd jobs and businesses, including organising discos during which they sold the snacks they had made themselves. In the end, Waweru and the others worked their way into the championships and despite facing tough opponents, injury and other challenges, he become a champion boxer in the early 1980s.

Fastforward to decades later. How many young men and women are to be found in rural areas or urban slums today, all of them yearning to reach for their dreams but who do not know where to start? How many of these potential champions would get a life-changing experience if, perchance, they were to read Waweru’s book?   

At the time I was reading this book, I was training my one-year-old son to walk. I discovered then that his biggest challenge was not in the legs but the self-doubt in his head. Even when his body was willing and capable, he would not make that step until he was convinced he could. And that was where I came in.

That, generally speaking, is what motivational literature does to all those who look at their circumstances and declare: “I can’t do this. Who am I to accomplish such a feat?”

According to Waweru, behaviour always follows belief.

“Self-belief,” he argues in the book, “can be a greater asset than previous experience: yet many of us allow lack of experience to keep us from trying.”

One of the criticisms leveled against motivational books is that they are overly concerned with teaching only how to accumulate money. In his book, however, Waweru says that for him, making money was not an end in itself. He sees money as a resource that can help those with a dream to achieve their goals. Giving the example of his boxing career, he says that he first ventured into business to raise money to finance his sport, including paying his trainer. He had discovered that without money, he could not facilitate his dream.

“I never focused on getting money for money’s sake,” Waweru says in the book. “For me, it was a tool to reach my aspiration of becoming a champion.”

This is an important lesson especially for those who argue that an obsession with money is all there is to motivational books.

Not so long ago, a friend posted on Facebook a story about how one Sunday, some ducks waddled into the equivalent of their church for a sermon and their preacher went on and on, telling them how God had given them wings and that it was within the power of each duck to soar like an eagle.

“Amen,” the ducks shouted at every stage. But when the sermon was over, each again, waddled back to their homes in the pond.

This story, in short, illustrates a popular view held by critics of motivational literature. As far as they are concerned, the books preach a false gospel by promising more than it can deliver and creating hope where there is none.

Think for a moment about the Wright brothers, Wilbur and Orville, who started off as bicycle repairers in their neighbourhood. What did their neighbours think of them the first time they declared: “We believe we can fly?”

Were they told “of course you can?” or was their declaration greeted with skepticism?

One of the questions that has animated literary debate since the invention of printing is this: What is the role of literature in society? It is a question that formal literary critics, even in Kenya, have grappled with for decades.

There are those who argue that literature is an attempt to grasp at a higher truth. This, however, spawns another question, which is as pertinent to literature as it is to religion, philosophy and politics: Is there one Truth or are there multiplicities of truths?

Every writer, reader and literary critic must seek their own answers to these two important questions. The point, however, is that just as there are those who grasp the ultimate truth(s) through fiction or poetry, there are, too, those for whom motivational literature offers the path of enlightenment. The path to knowledge taken by each is as valid as that taken by the other.

In Champion, Waweru offers insights from his own life. Besides his ambition to become a boxer, he also wanted to become a writer, largely because he enjoyed reading. But he discovered that he could have a greater influence as a publisher because he would bring out the ideas of diverse people rather than just his own. Now he has gone and written, offering inspiring lessons that offer insights on how to become achievers in life, in sport and in business. And all are grounded in real life experiences.

A shorter version of this story was first published in the Saturday Nation on August 30